House of Dragons (Royal Houses 1)

“Why don’t you come on in?”

“You’re sure? I was just looking for Kerrigan. I didn’t know—”

“I’m sure. She went off to wander all night. It’s almost dawn. You can come in.”

“Oh… all right,” Darby said. She stepped daintily inside and closed the door behind her. “It feels odd to be sleeping in different quarters… after living here for so long.”

Clover sat up on her elbows. “You can sleep here. I don’t mind.”

“Thank you,” Darby said.

She went about the room like it was her own, which it had been up until a few days ago. She found extra blankets and a fresh pillow and bundled up into the bed across from where Clover lay.

“Do you think she was right?”

Clover faced Darby with the lantern light between them. “Do I think Lyam was murdered?”

“He was, wasn’t he?”

“Kerrigan has good instincts.”

Darby frowned, and Clover decided right then and there that she didn’t like it one bit. “I knew we were all about to start our own lives, but I thought it would be like it was… but bigger,” she admitted. “Like we’d have this new adventure in society and still have this group we always grew up with. That was… kind of naive. I see that now.”

“Maybe a little naive,” Clover conceded. “But why shouldn’t you get everything you’ve ever wanted?”

Darby’s eyes landed on her own. Dark as midnight and as earnest as she had ever seen them. “I thought that I was getting that when Lady Sonali picked me.”

“Life doesn’t always work out the way we want it to,” Clover said, rubbing the locket and tucking it back under her shirt.

“Thank you for talking to me. I guess I wasn’t quite ready for sleep.” Darby punctuated that with a large yawn and then a tinkling laugh. “Or I was, but my brain wouldn’t shut off.”

“Why don’t you try to sleep now?”

“Would you sing to me?” Darby whispered through another yawn, her eyes already closed.

“Sing?”

“Mmm,” Darby muttered.

Clover swallowed. She hadn’t sung in a long time. Not in five years. Not since her parents had been killed. But she still remembered the tune her mother used to sing as she laid her down to sleep. She hadn’t thought of it in so long, and still, it came back to her with ease, the words following close behind.

Sleep, my little darling.

May dreams soothe and obey.

Turn the charm one, two, three times.

Don’t leave. I want you to stay.

Sleep, my little angel.

Open the heart, and I’ll appear.

Speak my name one, two, three times.

No fear. I’ll always be near.

Darby softly snored in the opposite bed before Clover finished the lullaby. It was for the better. She wouldn’t see Clover swipe at the tear that had rolled down her cheek.

Clover crept out of bed and carefully tugged the covers under Darby’s cheek. She brushed a lock of her dark hair out of her face. Then, she extinguished the lantern and crawled back into bed, trying to forget the memories the lullaby had dredged up.

22

The Disappointment

Isa

Isa dealt in death.

She enjoyed a good day of espionage like anyone, but the tip of her dagger in a warm body was preferable.

Her hard leather boots were soundless against the stones as she traipsed up to the back of the building. She could have used the front, but she’d rather less people knew who she was. A shadow in the night was more fearsome than a girl with a shock of white hair and a pretty little face. Being pretty sometimes helped get her into buildings, but more often than not, it was a nuisance. People assumed a lot about pretty girls. Namely that they were stupid and weren’t going to slit you from nose to navel for touching them. For Isa, they were wrong on both counts.

She scaled the small stone wall and landed with ease into the garden on the other side. A black mask obscured her features, but still, she drew her cloak further forward, putting her face in deeper recess. Now, she was ready.

With purpose, Isa stalked through the manor home deep in the heart of Riverfront territory. Wealthy enough to be a solid benefactor, but not nearly as much of a nuisance as some of those royal pricks in the Row. New money. The entire estate reeked of it.

Not that she much cared one way or another. As long as she was paid.

She strode forward with the grace of her training and the confidence of someone who feared only one person in her life—her father. And he wasn’t here.

A pathetic excuse for a guard stood outside of the entrance to the main room.

“I was called,” Isa said with disdain evident in her voice.

“He has been waiting for you,” the guard said. He turned the knob and announced her presence.

She pushed in before him and lazily strolled into the living area. It desperately wanted to be a four-hundred-year-old Row mansion but didn’t quite pull it off. Hardwood in a deep chestnut covered the floor with a collection of recently designed furniture in various neutral shades. Objects of import lined cedar shelves built into the walls, and a man stood at a full glass window display overlooking the river.